Wheelnik Stories

Mission Mitzvah 2003,
by Nimrod Grinvald, Hagalil

It seemed like it would be a routine Shabbat on Wheels - arriving at our destination in the afternoon, we would visit the nearby supermarket to purchase perishable goods (read: food!), and then hunker down at the friendly Hilton or Amerisuites in town. After unpacking and changing into Shabbat clothes, a flock of teenagers could be seen descending down to the group room to daven Kabbalat Shabbat and then eat! It would be a low-key 25 hours, spent relaxing in the hotel's pool, tossing a football around with friends, singing ruach, and in general enjoying the summer atmosphere. Come the following evening, Shabbat would be concluded by the beautiful Havdalah service.

This was the plan, to which there would be some unintentional deviation. Yet, that was how the majority of Shabbat progressed. As usual, the USYers led entrancing services all throughout Shabbat. Stories were shared, toasts were made (with grape juice, of course), and the melodies on the lips of Bus H did not cease to be hummed until throats were hoarse with exertion. But it was Havdalah that proved to be the most interesting.

30 USYers and four staff linked arms together as the Havdalah candle was lit, its bright flame illuminating the otherwise darkened room. Together, our group began to sway to the music, reveling in each other's presence. It was a Kodak moment, an instant in time, suddenly interrupted by the blaring klaxons of the hotel. A spiritual mood had transformed into one of bewilderment, and it took several seconds for the group to realize the harsh noise was the fire alarm going off throughout the entire facility!

Quickly, we vacated the building, regrouping outside. It was only then when someone spoke up, saying that the Havdalah candle was right under the smoke detector, and that we had set off the fire alarm system, causing the entire hotel to be evacuated. This fact awoke humor in an otherwise unsuspecting group, and laughter abounded for a long time. Havdalah was soon held outside, and no one cared about the other vacationers who were staring at our quaint ceremony. From then on, we made sure to daven Havdalah outside, and our Shabbat in Memphis was never forgotten.

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